


All That Is Left

by firstbankofchickpea



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Depressing, Grief/Mourning, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28076955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstbankofchickpea/pseuds/firstbankofchickpea
Summary: What else was left for her? Her child was dead.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	All That Is Left

*Thud*Thud*Thud* Augusta's bloodshot eyes opened. She had not been asleep, but it still felt as if somebody had rudley pulled her into another reality. There was a commotion at her front door. "Augusta! Augusta! Please let me in! I know you're in there! Please let me in!" Augusta's eyes closed again. It was just her good friend Susan. It was kind of her to care so much, but she still couldn't help but feel bitter resentment. Why did she have to pull her from her fog? When her mind was deep in the fog, she didn't have to think. She didn't have to remember that her son was dead.

Augusta rolled over on to her back. Her auburn hair a tangled and oily mess beneath her. She stared up at the ceiling. How long had she been lying in bed? She couldn't remember. Day and night seemed so unimportant to take note of. Nothing was important anymore. The only thing of importance was locked up in her head.

He was still so clear in her memory. The last time she had seen him alive. He had been smiling. Not that that had been out of the ordinary. He was rarely seen without a smile. And yet he always seemed to save his biggest brightest smiles just for her.

He was so handsome. His soft brown hair and those pair of glasses that framed his face so perfectly. It was a mystery why he had stayed single his whole adult life. Despite being thirtyone, there was a boyishness innocence in his face that was hard to deny. He also had such a striking voice. It was tailor made for the new radio stations that seemed to pop up over night. He loved his job at the radio station and she simply adored hearing his voice every day.

That day he had visited her unexpectedly. He had sat her down and taken her hands in his. He told her that he would be out of town for a month or two. That he had some things to 'sort out'. He had not elaborated and she had not wanted to pry. She was grateful that he was still attentive to her despite having moved out of her home when he was eighteen. It had made her sad that he would be leaving for so long. At that time, she had not known what true sadness was.

There had been no hint of strain in his voice. Not a single trace of anything to warn her that he was hiding an unspeakable secret. That he was a murderer and that he was about to go on the run.

It was impossible to reconcile what she knew now with what she thought she had known about her child. She still couldn't wrap her head around it. That she had been told that her son was a cold blooded killer hiding under the guise of a charismatic radio host. She refused to believe it at first. She had felt him grow inside her. There was no way a secret as big and horrible as that could be hidden between mother and child. Could there?

And yet, it had all been true. Her one and only child was a monster. The same child who had told her that he would marry her when he was grown up. The same child who declined to play outside in order to watch her cook. The same child that never stopped humming his favorite songs. The same child who made her feel wanted and loved.

So badly did she wish to speak to him again. To ask him why. Why had he done such terrible things? Had it been her fault? Was there something she could have done to keep him for doing those things? She had wanted an explanation, but that was something she would never get.

Augusta's nails bit into her palms. The police had come to her door in the middle of the night. They had told her that they believed that her son's body was in their morgue and that they needed her ID to be sure. What is a mother to do with that kind of news? She had no choice but to believe that it was all an egregious mistake. How else could she have held onto her sanity during the moments she spent being driven to the morgue?

Even if she had lived to be one thousand years old, nothing in her lifetime could have prepared her for what she saw when they lifted that shroud. Red. All she could see was red meat. Vicious bite marks covered her son's body. One of his ears had been ripped off. The skin around the left part of his mouth was gone, revealing his jaw. Worst of all was the jagged wound across his neck. His throat had been ripped out. The suffocating scent of blood ad flooded her senses. Even now, she could still smell it.

The moments immediately afterwards was a blank to her. The next thing she could recall was awakening in the hospital. A nurse had relayed to her what she had heard from one of the attending officers. In the time after she had blacked out, she had become hysterical. The officers had to pul her off the corpse as she screamed and frantically attempted to revive her son. Her visceral reaction was all the positive identification they needed.

The next few days were a wide stretch of nothing. The only thing she could recall was the story that had come to her piece by piece. Nobody had witnessed her son's death firsthand, but it was surmised that the several bloodhounds the police had released had tracked him into the woods and tore him to shreds. It remained a mystery to everyone involved as to why the dogs had mauled him in such a brutal fashion, but the facts were the same nonetheless. Her baby was dead.

Augusta's grief was immense, but with that grief also came immense guilt. Her son had murdered so many people and had reduced the lives of so many to shambles and yet she still loved him with all her heart.

Not one person was crass enough to ask her, but it was written all over their faces. How could she still love him? Didn't she care at all about his numerous victims? But she did care. She truly did. Her heart acted for the lives stolen. But the fact of the matter was, none of those people were her child. 

Augusta had not eaten in days. She had not changed her clothes, nor had she had the will to leave her bed. Her mind kept cycling back. Back into that fog of memories she took refuge in. The day she found out she was pregnant. The day he was born. The first time she had fed him milk from her body. The first time he had smiled up at her. The first time he had babbled 'I love you'. All the first times. 

Her memories. They were all she had left. They were something nobody could take away from her. She would stay in that fog of memories forever. Her memories of her Alastor.


End file.
